Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison

sia

stigious art school on the East Coast. Dreams of galleries

devoured it all. My college fund was siphoned off for her "speciali

il had landed in my inbox a few hours after my acceptance. A car would pic

rmal dining room glowed with candlelight, a feast spra

ra's "re

vely in a silk dress. My mother fussed over her, my fathe

ghost at t

finally looked up, his eyes dark

rder, not a

ground b

ed weakly. "Dante, darling, could you peel a

before it was smoothed away. He picked up a grape, his large, capable hands-hands that had built a cri

me snapped. Qui

ed to

the Spanish word for ungrateful s

y father added, his tone dripping

oken. But prison hadn't broken me; it had been my university. I'd learned to survive. To listen. And to navigate

d every ven

storage room. I walked straight through the grand foyer, past t

ng, down the long, manicured driveway, until th

prison-issue shoes hit the pub

my bi

d forgotten. Another piec

leaving. I was